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It’s the end of practice on Monday when Kagami suddenly turns to Junpei and asks, “Y’all coming to the pickup game tonight?”
Junpei considers. Riko kept them to their usual training menus, thank heaven above, so he’s not too tired. However, it’s unlike Kagami (and also seemingly Kuroko, who stares at Junpei from Kagami’s elbow) to ask him if he would come to one of their pickup games. (They usually leave, bickering the whole way there, and he usually turns to Kiyoshi to see if he’s coming, too.) He shrugs. “Sure, why not? Why do you ask?”
Kuroko steps out from behind Kagami’s elbow. (Kagami jumps in surprise, like the meathead he is.) “We’re not sure if Kise’s coming, so we might need players if we want to do three-on-three.”
Junpei stops in his tracks. “That’s odd. Why’s he not coming?”
From what Junpei understands, Kise rarely ever misses their pickup games, and he’s still not sure if it’s mostly because of Akashi or because Aomine’s playing.
Kiyoshi pips up from behind Junpei. “Yeah, doesn’t he usually come?”
“I’m… not sure,” Kuroko says, and it’s the first time in a while Junpei’s seen him so troubled. “He told me he’s really busy with modeling.”
Kagami hums in agreement. “Akashi kinda… kicked him off the court. He even got mad at Aomine, and now Aomine’s kinda ticked off, too.”
“Who got mad at Aomine?” Kiyoshi asks.
“Kise,” Kagami and Kuroko say simultaneously.
Huh. Interesting, Junpei thinks.
I just wish I had a relationship like that with someone, Kise had said whilst staring at Aomine. I’m not really close friends like that with anyone and it seems really nice. I’d like that.
Kagami, meanwhile, is scratching his head. “Actually, no. He wasn’t angry. He seemed… kinda sad.” He scoffs. “Then he went back to being an aho.”
You’re really lucky to have someone like him, Hyuugacchi.
Junpei is hyper aware of the arm snaking around his waist, a large thumb stroking at his lower back. He turns in Kiyoshi’s arm, looking up to see Kiyoshi staring at him, eyebrow raised in question.
Junpei tilts his head to the retreating first years. “You coming?”
Kiyoshi smiles at him, bright and happy, and not for the first time, Junpei wishes he didn’t feel the pang in his chest every time Kiyoshi looks at him like that.
They switch around the teams for another round of three-on-three, and Aomine comes to the benches, dropping next to Junpei to drink water and sling a towel around his neck, wiping his face of sweat.
Junpei had been trying to observe Aomine as much as he could, see if there was any weight t Kagami’s words. Aomine seemed a bit shorter than usual and certainly a lot snippier towards Akashi, but he’d still shown up to their pickup games today.
Junpei can’t tell if this is because of Akashi, or because he’s still hoping Kise will show up. Junpei decides to believe the latter, mostly because Akashi also seems slightly unbalanced for someone who usually is the picture-perfect figure of control.
(Akashi keeps turning to someone who’s not there, before snapping onto someone else and shouting at them instead.)
Junpei nudges Aomine. “So what’s this I hear about Kise?”
Aomine grunts. “He’s not here.”
“Yeah. I can see that.”
“No shit.”
“Have you tried texting him?” Junpei narrows his eyes at him, adjusting his glasses. “You guys seem closer than the rest of them.”
“I— he told me to leave him alone, so. S’what I’ve been doing.” Aomine takes a swig from his water bottle, snarling. “I don’t even know what I did! I asked him if he wanted to play and he looked pissy about it but there was definitely something wrong ‘cause he was playing like total garbage. Then, freaking, Akashi yelled at him and then he yelled at me! And told me to— to leave him alone.” Aomine slams his water bottle onto the bench. “Fuck, bro. Fuck.”
Junpei huhs.
“I don’t even know why I’m so mad about it. It’s his — no. I— fuck! Fuck!”
Junpei grabs the top of his head, pushing down while ruffling his kouhai’s hair. “Hey, hey, settle down. No need to beat the shit out of the water bottle.” He relents when Aomine lets out a grunt and sighs. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. “Why is Kise’s absence hitting you so hard?”
Aomine puts his head in his (towel-covered) hands. “I don’t fucking know” bro. I wish he was here with me playing ball like we usually do. Like we were before, before shit hit the fan. I wish he’d text me about all the shit he’s doing and send me pics of him in whatever he’s modeling, and I want—fuck, this is embarrassing. This is so embarrassing.” Aomine reaches out, like he can grasp at an invisible string and somehow pull Kise to his side. “I just want— you know?”
“I— yeah.”
“Like Kagami could ever compare to him.” Aomine snorts. “No one can. He’s fucking Kise.”
That makes a lot of sense, at least where Aomine is concerned. Junpei sighs. (If his eyes drift towards Kiyoshi, no onesees that.) “I— kinda feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Like you want to be with this person all the time because they’re such a good and talented and strong person, and they make you better, and even though all the bickering you know they’re gonna be there. No one can do what they do for you and no one can be who they are to you, too.”
“Yeah. Fuck. Who, for you? Wait, no, I think I know. It’s the guy you come with.”
Kiyoshi maneuvers around Muraisakibara, waving the basketball over his head teasingly. Muraisakibara snorts like an angry bull and Kiyoshi just smiles at him like the dumbass he is. “Yeah.”
“Fuck it, bro. Shoot your shot.”
Junpei turns to Aomine, who’s staring at him hard and determined — like Junpei is a basketball waiting to be stolen. He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”
Aomine makes an aborted move as if to punch Junpei, but clearly thinks better of it. His fist hits the bench, causing their water bottles to almost fall off it. “What’s more complicated than trying to get someone you’ve known for years to not only talk to you again, but also get them to come back and play basketball with you and then also confess your feelings for them? All the while, he could be with anyone he wanted because he’s a famous model and has heads turning everywhere he goes?” Aomine shakes his head. “You’re right there, bro. Just do it. Worst comes to worst, you’re still better off than me. You still—” he grasps at the air again.
Kiyoshi dunks a basketball over Kagami’s head.
Junpei huffs. “You got me there, but don’t count yourself out either.” He claps Aomine on the shoulder. “Let’s make it a deal: I confess to Kiyoshi, you corner Kise over summer and confess your feelings to him. We don’t come back to this court until we do it.”
There’s a captain’s groupchat among those who go to the Interhigh to schedule inter-team practice and summer camps. He knows that Tōō and Kaijō are going to the same summer training camp area.
Aomine holds out his hand. Junpei takes it. They shake.
“Done.”
“Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes,” Junpei says, staring Aomine down to drill that lesson into his skull. “You have a shot. Take it. You don’t miss.”
Kise is smart, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Aomine’s going to have to be as decisive and solid on the court to pierce through the clouds in Kise’s eyes.
“I never do,” Aomine says, and Junpei nods.
A hand claps down on Junpei’s shoulder, thumbing the skin under his jersey. Aomine jumps as if he’s just realized kiyoshi is behind Junpei.
Junpei turns to Kiyoshi, who’s still shiny with sweat. “You guys done?”
“Something like that,” Kiyoshi says. He tilts his head towards the court. “Aomine, you going to join in?”
“I—” Aomine pauses. “I don’t think so, actually.” He stands up and starts packing his stuff away. “I gotta go.”
Kiyoshi’s hand slips further into the neck of Junpei’s jersey, caressing the nape of his neck. “Want to come over to my place?”
Junpei can feel Aomine staring him down. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Um. Can we talk? When we get there?”
“Yeah,” Kiyoshi says. His hand slips out again from Junpei’s jersey as Junpei stands, instead sliding over it to rest at the small of his back.
Aomine snorts. “Fucking A, Hyuuga-san. Don’t miss, my ass. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”
Junpei just laughs. “Right back at you. Get outta here, dipshit.”
Aomine just slings his bag over his shoulder, waving a hand as goodbye. Junpei watches him pull out his phone and barely manages to catch Aomine saying, “Satsuki—”
“What was that all about?” Kiyoshi says.
Junpei just shakes his head. “We’ll find out soon.”
Junpei and Kiyoshi walk back to Kiyoshi’s home in a silence fraught with a different energy than how it usually is. Typically, the silence between them is impatient, anxious; building up to something to slowly fizzle out into a comfortable energy.
Now, it seems stilted. Cautious. And Junpei knows that it’s on him, for the most part — he didn’t tell Kiyoshi exactly what he wanted to talk about. Refusing to elaborate on Aomine’s situation is another reason, but Junpei didn’t want to air all that out in front of Aomine or the rest of the group.
Kiyoshi keeps bumping shoulders with him, so Junpei takes that as a good sign.
Kiyoshi lets him into the apartment first and Junpei puts his stuff away as per usual, trying to think of how to approach — well, everything.
He doesn’t even know where to begin with his own emotions, not even the epiphany that led him to start this conversation.
“Hyuuga?”
“Yeah?”
Kiyoshi stands in front of him, eyes wide with concern. “What’s bothering you?”
Aomine’s in love with Kise. Kise not coming back to our pick-up games is a pride battle between Akashi and Kise, and both are stubborn to a fault and it would rip apart the peace between the Generation of Miracles now. I thought I could have you in this one way and be satisfied, but now there’s an asshole who convinced me otherwise.
“I haven’t hated you for a while,” Junpei begins. “You know that?”
Kiyoshi reaches out for his hands, holding them in his own, ridiculously larger ones, and pulling Junpei towards his sofa. “Yes. We’re friends, right?”
“Yeah,” Junpei says, quietly. With more conviction, “Yeah.”
Kiyoshi sits down the sofa, still looking at him in that no-brain-cell way of his, and Junpei can’t decide if he wants to sit further down the couch or stay in between Kiyoshi’s legs.
Junpei shakes their joined hands lightly. “You are important to me in so many ways and not just because you forced me to play basketball with you and be captain and helm Seirin together and… You— I—” Junpei sighs. “Teppei.”
“Junpei,” Kiyoshi says, like he’s testing the word out, even though they’ve said each other’s first names in a vastly different context many different times before.
“I don’t care about your bum knee and not being able to play next year, like how you didn’t care that I quit,” Junpei rushes out, because he needs Teppei to hear it — hear him. “I want you there for every win after, even if you have to sit on the bench the whole time and cheer us on. I want you there in practice, even if all you can do is assist Riko, if you even want to do that — which I have no doubt you will, because you love this game as much as I do.”
“Junpei,” Kiyoshi says, and the way he says it is too full of emotion for Junpei to unpack properly.
“I don’t care anymore what it means to have you by my side, all I know is that I want it, and I’m willing to accept the consequences—”
“And what would these consequences entail?” Kiyoshi says, effectively cutting Junpei off. Junpei wants to narrow his eyes at Kiyoshi, see if he’s trying to pull something on Junpei— for whatever reason, Junpei has no idea. He knows Kiyoshi would never do or say anything to harm him intentionally, but he doesn’t get what Kiyoshi gets out of his answer.
“At worst, I was thinking we couldn’t be friends anymore because it’d be too awkward,” Junpei says hesitatingly. “I don’t think you’d want to be friends with someone who you knew had your dick up their ass and also fell in love with you in the process.”
“And what would be the best case scenario?” Kiyoshi says, a smile growing on his face as he tugs Junpei into his lap to straddle it and now Junpei knows that Kiyoshi was fucking with him the entire time because his grin is too wide for his face and Junpei wants to get rid of it in any way possible.
“You tell me,” Junpei says, lips now millimeters from Kiyoshi— Teppei’s. “Tell me you love me too, Iron Heart, or I’ll leave.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kiyoshi barely manages to get out, “the first part was all I wanted to hear,” before his tongue is caressing Junpei’s and they’re sucking face in a way that their kouhais would barf at and Riko would yell at them to get a room. It’s difficult to kiss properly anyway with how widely Teppei’s smiling and how Junpei wants to laugh at how stupid they are that they could’ve had this so much sooner if they got their heads out of their asses ages ago.
Kiyoshi pulls away to start biting at Junpei’s neck, saying between kisses, “Of— course— I— love— you— too, dumbass, how— could— I—not?”
Junpei does laugh then, exposing more of his throat for Teppei to mark the shit out of, and Teppei topples them horizontally onto the couch.
When they’re done thoroughly defiling Teppei’s couch, Teppei gathers Junpei up in the afterglow and they cuddle naked on the soft leather. It’s nice. They usually don’t do the stay-the-night-and-hold-each-other stuff unless it’s after a particularly rough game or practice or it’s simply too late for either of them to comfortably leave, so Junpei lets himself stare at Teppei as much as he wanted to because he can, now.
Kiyoshi hums consideringly. “What were you and Aomine talking about earlier?”
“Hm?” Junpei clicks his tongue. “Oh. We made a deal that he was going to tell Kise about his feelings if I told you about mine.”
“Ah,” Kiyoshi says. His arms tighten ever so slightly around Junpei.
“Why? Were you jealous?”
“…No. Why would I be jealous?”
“You are,” Junpei says, biting into Kiyoshi’s pec, “so fucking stupid.”
The Friday after their training camps, Aomine strides up to the court, still Kise-less. The whole gang’s here, too — Takao and Midorima, Himuro and Murasakibara, Akashi and Kuroko, Imayoshi and Kawamatsu, Taiga and Teppei. Teppei looks down at Junpei and Junpei just exhales, lacing their fingers together and letting their hands swing between them.
Aomine stops in front of them with his usual self-assured smirk present. He looks t hem up and down, hand on his hip. “I see you two look cozy.”
“I see your better half isn’t here,” Junpei replies coolly. “How’d things go with Kise?”
Surprisingly (or not), Aomine doesn’t rise to the bait. “He’s good. We’re all good.” Aomine runs a hand through his short hair and barks out a laugh. “Turns out he was trying to get everyone together, actually.”
“What do you mean, ‘get everyone together’?” Takao says, and it’s only then that Junpei realizes that they have an audience.
Aomine waves his hands at the group as if it’s supposed to mean anything, and like a lightning strike, Junpei gets it.
“I don’t get it,” Murasakibara says.
Aomine points at him. “Kise got you jealous with Himuro.” He points at Midorima, who coughs pointedly and looks away. Aomine’s smirk widens. “Booty shorts.” He then turns to Akashi, whose gaze has suddenly become stony. “Betcha didn’t think spin the bottle would be fun, huh, ‘Kashi?” Akashi opens his mouth as if to retort, but Kuroko tugs at his elbow and Akashi’s turning to him, missing how Aomine looks a little lost as he waves his pointed finger between Teppei and Junpei, and Imayoshi and Kawamatsu. He shrugs. “Kise also wanted you guys to get together, too, but… I’m not totally sure how he managed that.”
Teppei laughs, pulling Junpei under his shoulder. “Call it a team effort between the two of you.”
“Yeah,” Junpei agrees. “Without you, I wouldn’t’ve gotten the kick in the ass to ask Teppei out.”
Imayoshi seems to be restraining Kawamatsu, with a hand clapped over his mouth. “As much as I’d love to see Kawamatsu beat you into a pulp for defiling his kouhai, I can’t have that. We do need to win tournaments, too, you know.”
“Wow,” Kuroko says, held tightly in Akashi’s arms. Junpei would say something if he also wasn’t terrified of Akashi in general. “How in the world did he ever think you and Kagami would be a good match?”
Aomine snorts. His voice takes on a growl not unlike that of a predator in the wild. “Who cares? He’s mine now.” He turns to Akashi, who narrows his eyes at Aomine. “He better be allowed back.”
Kuroko interlaces his fingers with Akashi’s (which Junpei narrows his eyes at), and Akashi just hmphs imperiously. Aomine snarls, but doesn’t push further.
Kagami slams a ball between his hands. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s play basketball!”
Junpei turns to Teppei, surprised to see him misty-eyed. “Why are you so torn up about?”
“Everything worked out in the end,” Teppei says, and it’s said in such a Teppei way that Junpei can’t decide if he wants to slap him or kiss him.
In the interest of not emotionally damaging their kouhai, he pushes Teppei away with a snarl, but still reaches back to grab onto his hand. “Quit it. Let’s play.”
Junpei tugs Teppei onto the court, and resolutely ignores how much it’s taking him to keep his smile at reasonable levels.